Not Sorry
by nostratic
Summary: He breathed in deeply and it now feels like he hasn’t been breathing since. Oneshot AU


warning: boyxboy themes

disclaimer: has anyone ever been sued for posting something on ffdotnet? all the disclaimers seem redundant, given the domain name.

This is a one shot. Also, this is what happens when I read Edna O'Brien and watch Nobuta Wo Produce at the same time. One day I shall write an actual Shuji to Akira fic because that drama is deliberately asking for yaoi, you don't even know.

Anyways.

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**Not Sorry**

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It is night. Well, actually, it is morning. Sasuke is sitting cross-legged on his twin bed, the sheets ruffled and undone about him. Just a few minutes ago he opened the window. It is October but it has been warm. The room has cooled, if just a little. Sasuke enjoys the ambivalent breezes of changing seasons. They have always carried, if not a special smell, a special feel. Though they can be chilly, especially this early in the morning, they make him wonder if he really has any particular need for clothing. The air from outside feels wonderful against the thin film of sweat on his bare chest.

He is sitting cross-legged on his bed. He is hunched forward and his head hangs; he can hardly hold himself up he is so exhausted. He may fall asleep without warning. But he won't. He can't. He has been trying for the past few hours, and now it is dark morning but he won't be sleeping anytime soon. So instead he is sitting on his bed and without guidance his thoughts are falling into the same blurred pattern. They run over and over each other in his head, like rats, like mad, aimless prayers, like a string of whispers no one will decipher. He is hardly conscious but still he is not asleep.

He tilts forward slowly and his eyes drift closed. A second—and he jerks up, breathing in deeply. With anger, with a small amount of despair, he shifts and lies back over his sheets, bunching them into fists at his sides. He is disoriented as he stares at the ceiling above. Though he barely passed into unconsciousness, he feels he can't be sure how much time has gone by.

How much time has gone by? He almost asks it out loud. The low hum in his throat seems obtrusive to the darkness of the room. It has been a day. No, that is not true, it has been less than a day. Hours, only. A few hours ago Sasuke was outside the main school building, on the south side next to the gymnasium where the bike racks are. He was crouching next to his bike and fixing the chain because it'd come loose again. It was hot. He remembers the discomfort of his shirt collar, the weight of his book bag as the strap cut into his shoulder, the sweat trickling down his neck. His fingers were covered in black grease from the chain.

Then Naruto came and when Sasuke looked up he was standing over him. His shadow fell to the other side, not touching Sasuke. "I'm sorry," Naruto said. "Gomen nasai!" He said it roughly and suddenly and all at once, like he was responding to a military command. Sasuke stood and decided to leave his bike. He was going to walk home. He was going to go back the next day and try again to fix it, but for now he was in a big hurry. He didn't have the time.

Naruto grabbed his arm and stopped him. "Teme! I said I'm sorry!" Sasuke looked at his face. Naruto's face is expressive. Sometimes, Sasuke doesn't listen to what Naruto says but looks at his face instead. He has spent entire conversations this way. He remembers that Naruto's face was scrunched up. He looked at his eyes and knew that Naruto wasn't going to let this go. He was determined to make Sasuke stop for him, and he was such a moron for trying, except, Sasuke thinks, not really because he's probably the only person that has even a remote chance at it. At night, unable to sleep and so alone in his room, Sasuke does not deny this.

He turns onto his side and looks at the white angles of moonlight cut across the floorboards. Later, the sky will be pale gray with almost-dawn and Sasuke will listen to the sleepless sound of crows in the morning. He will not have gotten any rest. Now, he kicks the blankets off the mattress. He throws his pillow down. After a moment he pulls off his boxers and discards them as well. His movements have become stiff and violent. He lies flat on his back, naked, spread-eagled. His breaths are loud.

Naruto's face is expressive. They will be sitting in class, any class. The desks will be cluttered with books and paper, the teacher will be addressing the chalk on the board. And with the complete peace that only he has, the adolescent energy, the lilt of a joke and a smile, Naruto will be sitting next to him. He'll be sitting back in his seat, his shirt untucked, his legs long and casual. He'll be tapping his pencil against the wood, the eraser dull and soft in the quiet, restless afternoon. Then he'll look up—and _grin_.

And then they'll be biking home along the waterfront like always, school ties whipping over their shoulders, not talking, not even Naruto, and Sasuke will think that it's just _this_—there's an apartment he's biking to and a school he came from and his bag is dangling from his shoulder—but they're just things and the wind pushing back his hair is more real than all of it. Naruto, tongue poking out in effort and then grinning wildly as they race, race like they do everyday though they've long stopped caring who the winner is. Two blocks later they split ways. They will skid to a stop and again neither will speak, as if trying to extend this time they have by staring out at the quiet intersection together. But then Naruto will wave, call him a bastard, and bike off. Sasuke will not say anything; soon after he will turn and leave as well, his wheels running a dusty beat over the stone-paved waterfront as he makes his way home.

It's always summer with Naruto. Though now, with the window open and the October night air on Sasuke's skin as he lies naked, summer seems long gone.

Last night, he was at Naruto's . Was it just last night? They stayed up. When they fell asleep it was right on the tatami mats, sprawled over the floor of the small living room. The windows open. It had been considerably warmer, and though it wasn't the first time Sasuke stayed over it was the first time he noticed how happy he feels lying on his back staring at Naruto's ceiling, letting the night waft over him from the open balcony door. A moment suspended between today and tomorrow, in which everything is reduced to the way air feels against skin. He knows feelings like this don't last. If Naruto had been awake, Sasuke would've probably said something embarrassing.

In the morning they kissed. It happened because Naruto had woken up first, and because Sasuke thought he was still dreaming. No one had closed the windows and the morning air was gray and chill. And when Naruto pulled away he was not red or embarrassed and Sasuke was not angry. That came later. Sasuke only turned to look out at the morning sky with its air still unthawed, a dripping blanket clinging to the vines that cling to walls. He breathed in deeply and it now feels like he hasn't been breathing since.

What actually happened was, when Naruto pulled away, Sasuke got up and left.

He spreads a hand over the sheets and runs it lightly back and forth, thinking: today it will be hot again. The sheets are damp with morning cold. Sasuke shivers but does not cover himself. In a few hours he will rise, naked still, and toe his way along the floorboards. He will move through his empty apartment and see how the pale light of dawn begins to stain the walls and furniture in familiar hues. The knob in the shower will be turned all the way. His skin will gleam wet and red with heat so that when he steps out, foregoing a towel, steam billowing behind him, the cold will strike him all the more violently. It will pierce him to the bones and he will shake.

And at school, Naruto will be angry with him. If he taps his eraser it will be a terse beat, anxious and incessant. At lunch Sasuke will go to the roof, alone. He will stare out over the courtyard, squinting in the sun, and wonder how many days it will take this time for Naruto to join him for lunch again. It will be an idle question. Sasuke does not care about the answer because he knows it's only a matter of when and not if. There are apologies to give each other, so many apologies and accusations, and Naruto knows this and he does his part, but for Sasuke it has always only been a fluctuation between not caring and caring so much it hurts. The apologies he forgets and overlooks; that is, he has no room for them.

And maybe Naruto understands and maybe he doesn't, but Sasuke gives it a week. Usually only a day or two but there's the issue with his breathing, how he feels like he left his lungs somewhere on Naruto's living room floor. Also, Naruto is probably taking this one personally. In any case, no later than Friday, Sasuke is sure, Naruto will walk up behind him on the roof, perhaps throw insults around or perhaps a punch, and at that point they will both know it's alright again.

Sasuke lets out a shaky breath, almost a laugh, and wonders how long he's been lying to himself. He thinks of all the days he's been alone on the roof and all the days he hasn't. He notes vaguely that he can't feel his toes.

Then, it is four in the morning and the doorbell rings. Sasuke has been drifting in the slow territories of encroaching dreams. Now he is standing before the open door, shaking with cold.

"You sleep naked?" Naruto asks. His voice is cutting. It is dark and Sasuke can see only glints of eyes and teeth as he speaks, the pale luminescence of moonlight on a portion of his jaw.

"I wasn't sleeping," he says.

Naruto walks in and closes the door. "You're an asshole," he says. And then: "Why the hell is it so cold in here?"

Sasuke wants to explain what happens when windows are left open too long, how it came to be that he is standing drained, empty, and shivering, but that's not what Naruto is asking.

Sasuke is too tired to be embarrassed. Naruto moves past him to the kitchen window and shuts it. Sasuke waits, naked, toes curling on the icy tiles, listening to the rough bangs as Naruto moves through the rooms of his small apartment, closing every window. Then he is back. He's standing in the doorway, fists clenched, and he's furious.

Sasuke can only think that he's never been colder in his life. He feels displaced. This is not his body. These are not his trembling arms. The cold is exhilarating. It's pain. It's freedom. He can do anything. He is displaced. He wants to laugh.

"So? Say something!" Naruto is across the room. Yes, he's angry. Sasuke looks at him and shrugs. The motion is stiff because he's shaking violently. "Are you insane?" Naruto asks. Sasuke thinks of the way Naruto gripped his arm by the bike racks, eyes wide and piercing. Apologies and accusations. No, Sasuke thinks. Not insane, but rather trapped by what is and isn't, what could be. And, it's cold.

"I'm not sorry," Naruto is saying. He's getting defensive, now. "I'm not sorry I kissed you. I said I was earlier but I'm not. I came to tell you. Now you know." And so Sasuke does know; he knows it's all been left to him, again. So that's that, the floor is his, though no one's thought to ask if he ever wanted it. His life has been a series of lonely reactions and staged decisions. He is suddenly irritated and does not reply. He remembers that he's naked and turns away.

"Sasuke?" Naruto moves closer, reaches out, pulls away as if pale, fleshy, weak skin could burn. "You're freezing. You fucking idiot."

"What the hell do you want from me?" Sasuke asks. He is glad it is dark. He wants to pull out his hair.

"Don't ask me that fucking question!" Naruto yells. "Don't act as if that's all this is. Fuck you, Sasuke." Then he's grabbing Sasuke's arm and pulling him along the hallway and Sasuke didn't realize how bad the shaking was but he can barely move his legs and Naruto is supporting half his weight. He is pushed onto his bed. Thrown. He is too tired to care. Naruto is kicking off his shoes and picking the sheets up from the floor, angry again and staring down at Sasuke. He climbs in and pulls the sheets up around them. He covers them both and draws Sasuke's naked body to him, wrapping his arms tightly around Sasuke's chest. "You idiot," he says again, and it sounds like he's talking to himself. "It's thirty fucking degrees out." Sasuke is tense and stiff. Naruto's legs intertwine with his own and he can't help but appreciate the warmth.

For a while, they don't speak. Sasuke's shivers have died down. Naruto has been running his fingers through the hair at the base of Sasuke's scalp in terse, absent motions. Then the hand slows and Sasuke feels Naruto's chest swell as he sucks in a breath. "You'll wake up in the morning and ignore me," he says. "You'll be bitchy and act like a jerk and think I don't get it. At school we'll be pissed at other. I won't be able to concentrate, and at lunch I'll ditch you for Kiba and the others. You'll probably keep it up for a few days. I'll get tired of it, and I'll let you know, and we'll fight because that's just how we are. It's how we understand each other."

He pulls back and looks Sasuke in the eye. In the darkness, Sasuke can see that he's grinning. His eyes have never been brighter and Sasuke realizes that Naruto is growing older. Maybe he's drifting away, slowly. Maybe this is only the beginning. Arms he doesn't remember folding around Naruto tighten without his consent.

"But just for now—" Naruto breaks off and swallows. "But for just this moment, I want you to believe me. I need you to believe that I _get_ it. We're both kind of screwed up, I know. And I know you'll need time, and that maybe you'll never see things exactly as I do. I know, now, some things can never be fixed. I've given up on trying to fix you. I just want you to believe me when I say that it doesn't even _matter_. Because this—this thing we have—it's still there. Always has been."

Sasuke doesn't answer. The words sink around his head into the bedsheets; some find their way into his pores and his skin is left tingling and numb. A smile is working its way onto his face, he is no longer in control of his muscles. He stifles a laugh, pressing his mouth against the cotton of Naruto's shirt. He doesn't know what he's feeling, or why.

Naruto is laughing too, though he pushes at Sasuke's shoulder. "Hey, damn it. I'm trying to tell you that you can brood all you want, but I'll never give a shit. What do you think you're laughing at?"

Sasuke hums. His mouth is still pressed open against Naruto's chest, the dry fabric turning damp around his lips, and he notices how nice he smells. He doesn't know much, only that he's tired and that he doesn't want move away. He knows that for once, he is warm. He will take this thing one step at a time. Naruto shifts slightly and rubs a hand up and down Sasuke's bare arm. He starts playing with Sasuke's hair again, tugging gently.

'Okay. I'm okay,' are the words in Sasuke's mouth. He wants to shout them, shout those and other words he hasn't formulated yet, words for the relief, that intense, wild joy coursing through his body, for the warmth he holds in his hands, the incredulity and wonder. He wants to laugh and race along the waterfront, and he wants to cry. But if he does it will have to be in his dreams against a backdrop of blue skies and Naruto's smiles because finally, finally, he is asleep.

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AN: thirty degrees Fahrenheit, I mean.

Also, I will certainly be finishing The Lost and Found. Not that I haven't had time to write, I'm just an exceedingly lazy person. In any case, I go on spring break in a few days. Maybe I'll finish it then.

Hope you liked the fic.


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